


This wasn't meant to happen

by ACrazyFangirl



Series: Je t'aime [1]
Category: Ruby Redfort Series - Lauren Child
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, bit of torture, i love this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACrazyFangirl/pseuds/ACrazyFangirl
Summary: Hitch never wanted to meet his soulmates, for their sake. But when he gets captured his jailers seem to have interesting ways to get information out of him..This happens before actual cannon btw





	This wasn't meant to happen

Hitch never thought he would win his soulmates, they both seemed to be too clever and too likely to live. Not saying that he would kill lots of people, just Hitch has what would seem to be a risky job. He’s a spy, okay and hell, spent more times hanging on to the edge of his life then on the edge of reality.

And whilst he spent all his time travelling round the world, the American government wouldn’t give him time to try to find his partners because having two extra people to look after. They didn’t want their best agent getting emotionally attached to someone, anyone. Taking the words from the James Bond quote, “orphans make the best spies, no strings.” In Hitch’s opinion, not writing to answer their questions but merely writing occasional notes, don’t forget to breath and this isn’t everything any worried scribbles made on his arms were covered by long shirts and suit sleeves.

It was almost a blessing when he messed up, and he was hired by Spectrum a sort of start-up not quite government, almost UN but not quite spy agency.  
“LB ma’am,” says Hitch, still awkwardly standing to attention as his new boss came into the room.  
“Hitchen,” she says, “Art Hitchen Zachery?”  
“Hitch,” he corrects, “just Hitch.”  
“Okay just Hitch,” she says, “why are you no longer at the FBI.”  
“Honourable discharge, I messed an assignment up. It won’t happen again ma’am,” says Hitch.  
“No, Hitch we get people make mistakes. And you were on a new case every week,” she says glancing over the thick file, “why was that? It’s almost as if they didn’t want you to stop. I have never seen a file so big.”  
“Don’t get attached,” whispers Hitch almost ashamed, “when you don’t stop, nothing catches up to you.”  
“That isn’t how it works Hitch, unfortunately,” says LB, “anyway, tomorrow you need to go to Boston.”

And it goes wrong, it goes almost horrifically wrong. Now he is sat in a Paris sewer, God knows how he got to Paris from Boston but he knows the sewers in Paris and that is where he was. He had gotten caught, apparently the month he spent mourning the loss of his job meant that he lost all stealth given to him.  
“Mister Hitch,” says a snarly voice, “who are working for now?”  
“No one,” spits Hitch feeling blood leave his mouth.  
He laughs, “we knew you would say that. So we have some people that might actually force you to say.”  
“You are not going to get the information by torturing me,” says Hitch, “even if I was working for anyone, which I’m not.”  
“No, I have done this before obviously,” says the man, “we have two people who’ll affect you most.”  
Hitch grew puzzled but felt the slow trickle of blood down his arm, the red drop staining his arm.  
“You wouldn’t,” he says, “you haven’t.”  
“We have, now who are you working for?”  
“No one.”  
In the distance he hears a scream.  
“Well then, where were you in Boston?”  
“Looking for them,” he whispers, lies come out so easily especially if they were partly true. Better excuse for Boston then previously tried in China.  
“For who?”  
“Soulmates, I never had anyone before. No one ever and then when I worked for the FBI they wouldn’t let me find them and then well, I got fired and I thought. Maybe, just maybe I deserve love,” he whispers.  
Another distant yell and Hitch pushes against his restraints, suddenly angry.  
“Who are you working for,” says the man.  
“No one,” repeats Hitch through gritted teeth, he feels any push of blood and he glares at them, “I was only trying to find them.”  
“John,” says the man looking at him, “that will be all, let him meet his soulmates and then he maybe he will help us tomorrow.”  
“Don’t.”  
“Why not Hitch? You were looking for them.”  
“But now I’ve caused them pain,” says Hitch.

The man laughs and when Hitch wakes up he is surrounded by two men.  
“So you are the person who never responds to our messages,” says the man with the ponytale.  
“Miles, he’s obviously scared. Look at him, you wouldn’t want to wish that amount of pain on your worse enemy,” says another, “I’m Ethan by the way, Ethan Blacker.”  
“Hitch, just Hitch,” says the newly awaken man, he can see blood dribble from his mouth reflected on both their faces.  
“We were so worried,” says Ethan.  
“Especially after Ethan started getting tortured,” says Miles distastefully.  
“None of this was meant to happen,” says Hitch pushing himself into the corner. Gently his body starts to silently heave out heavy tears.  
“Hitch?” Miles starts, moving to comfort him.  
“Don’t touch me,” snaps Hitch almost swatting his hand away, “we weren’t ever meant to meet. We, I’m not meant to get tangled up in other people’s lives.”  
“Oh,” says Blacker, “we weren’t going to meet.”  
“Better you didn’t know I existed,” says Hitch, “that is how I wanted this to work out. You two would have each other.”  
“Hitch,” says Miles.  
He angrily wipes his face.

“Why weren’t we ever going to meet?”  
“In case a stupid thing like this ever happened, course it has now, blasted criminals,” says Hitch.  
“Well we have met now. Work should be getting us out of here in a few hours, even if you don’t work for them we do,” says Miles.

Miles had freckles, so many of them. Hitch was already connecting stars on his bare back- Ethan had the shirt on- and whilst he knew this would never work out. There was that tiniest bit of hope alive in him.  
“Let’s see these injuries,” says Hitch suddenly gaining confidence.  
“Are you sure,” says Miles catiously.  
“Neither of you know my line of work,” says Hitch before reaching into his inside suit jacket, God knows how he still got it on but there it was. He pulls out a first aid kit from the lining and sets it up on the floor.  
“Miles, you are on lookout. Make sure nobody is coming,” says Hitch.  
Miles sprints to the bars separating this wide cavernous space to the main corridor.  
Ethan takes the shirt off, frowning down towards his split stomach. A neat little cut tore through it, like a river in a forest.  
“Shit dude,” says Hitch, “I am so sorry.”  
“Stop apologising and get me fixed up,” he orders.  
Hitch finds the bandages and rolls it tightly around the wound, “apply pressure.”  
“Got it.”  
“Check his arm,” says Miles, “I am not quite sure what they’ve done, but he was in pain.”  
“Come here Hitch,” whispers Ethan noticing again the silent tears.  
“Don’t.”

Hitch fixes him up and examines Miles, less was done on him. A little arm cut, that needed one of those bandages that you stuck on with sticky tape.  
“Hug,” offers Blacker, “we can explain this all when we get back home.”  
“I don’t have a home,” mentions the quiet Hitch.  
“Stay with us then,” says Miles, “now we will hug all our bad emotions out.”

Hitch has never realised why he didn’t let people come close to him before. No one had embraced him in a hug since he became a surely teenager and got that scholarship for some fancy school in the middle of nowhere, helped by his parents bank.  
“That good,” asks Miles looking up at Hitch who wass definitely the tallest in the trio.  
“Yeah,” he says, Ethan looks up and with his thumb wipes tears away.  
“Emotional day?”  
“Yeah.”

 

“Spectrum! release all your prisoners,” yells a burly voice.  
“Hey its Baker who has come to get us,” says Froghorn.  
“Miles, Ethan. New field dude,” says the young man, who doesn’t fit his voice at all.  
“Hello,” says Hitch.  
“We’ll best get you home, LB is waiting outside for you,” he says before cutting the padlock off and swinging it open.  
Miles grabs his hand and just as the bullets start shooting the three run down the corridor and up the ladder for LB.  
“We’ll give you some time to get to now Blacker and Froghorn,” says LB, “I’m putting you on a Twinford job, looking after the smartest girl to have ever lived.”  
“A babysitting gig, LB, Hitch isn’t seventeen,” says Miles.  
“But he got two of my best coders almost killed, whether he meant to or not. And I think he needs some rest time if you get what I mean, how long has it been in this line of work?”  
“Eleven years, started when I was seventeen,” he explains, “I think I deserve some holiday.”  
“You’ll start that next week, now you three should spend the rest of it here. City of love and all that,” guides LB.  
“Is that what you and Bradley Baker are up to ma’am,” teases Ethan.  
“A week,” she warns before turning on her heels to follow the rest of the team away.

“You should try this chocolate,” says Miles leaning deeply into Hitch’s side, Blacker on the other side, holding Hitch’s hand.  
“What, because Blacker here has basically only eaten pastries this entire trip,” says Hitch.  
“La pain est tres bien,” says the man nodding.  
“I’ll take six,” says Hitch.  
“You really shouldn’t Hitch,” says Blacker.  
“What else am I going to spend money on.”  
“Suits apparently,” laughs Blacker.  
Miles rolls his eyes before excepting the gift, “just because you don’t have any fashion style Blacker.”

Hitch had honestly thought he would never meet his soulmates, let alone they would put up with all his sarcastic humour and pessimistic outlook on life. But they did, and they loved him for it. And the pair understood what happened when his mind spiralled and if he really needed help or comfort and when to be left alone, barely ever was the second one. Now that Hitch craved the pairs touch and he wasn’t quite sure how he would deal with if he never held someone ever again. The pair wrote messages frequently, just reminders on each other’s arm. Unimportant things and important things, many pairs stopped writing after they had met- surely the phone and other forms of communication would work so much better but Hitch needed some sort of physical reminder of love. He would forget otherwise and build a wall in the corner of the room to hide behind these two almost complete strangers.

“Hey, Hitch,” says Miles as Ethan pants behind them on top of the last step of the Eiffel tower.  
“Hey Miles.”  
“Je t’aime” whispers Miles before looking back from Hitch’s amber eyes and into the view of the City Of love.


End file.
